ABCs
A is for Arrogance.
✧
Manjiro Sano was arrogant – his self-assurance in his performance was beyond doubt, the confidence he put in himself was immeasurable. He was haughty in the way he knew he would always win, despite how bigger and stronger the opponent was.
B is for Breakable.
✧
There were many words to describe Takemichi Hanagaki, reckless, brave – idiotic, but breakable was one the entire gang of Toman could agree with.
Glass, that's what most people thought he was made of, delicate, frail, and wholly breakable. They would tiptoe around him and spoke in gentle, calming tones as if he were going to break down and cry at moment's notice (well they weren't wrong), as he usually does when faced with another gang fight.
Or faced with the danger of any kind, really.
He was just too fragile to be captain of a biker gang.
Whispers about his skills, or lack thereof, start to circle through the divisions of the gang.
"He's a chicken, a pansy, a yellow-bellied coward with no fighting prowess or skill."
That's partly true.
"It's a miracle he's survived this long."
Yeah, tell him about it. Every day feels like his last.
"He's nothing but a cry-baby. A weakling, a fake wannabee who probably just showed up in the right time to hog all the glory."
Hearing that rumor, kind of made him laugh a little. And he swears that the laughter that bubbles out of him is only a little hysterical.
Takemichi has heard it all before, the rumors and callous remarks about his person, but it still surprises him when Chifuyu, Hakkai, and quite often Mitsuya, would step forward, every time they hear the remarks, anger apparent on their faces as they defend his honor.
None of these rumor spreaders were there during the battle against Black Dragon on that fateful Christmas Day, none of them had seen Takemichi go toe to toe with Taiju. They didn't see the determination on Takemichi's face as he took hit after hit, they didn't see the sole punch he managed to land on Taiju, forcing him to his knee.
They don't know his true potential, how he can strengthen his entire squadron with the fewest words of encouragement, or his bone-deep determination to protect and save those he loves.
Takemichi doesn't mind the rumors or the accusations all that much, honestly. Some of them are even true. He knows that he can be particularly pathetic when he's staring death in the face. Or when he constantly whines and complains about the threat of death in turf fights, sometimes it's just easy to get overwhelmed in the world he lives in.
But when he's standing side by side with Mikey and the other Toman members in the midst of battle, he doesn't feel flimsy and frail, he feels strong.
After successfully winning the fights, he celebrates being alive and clings to the people who mean more to him than anything in the entire world, a rag-tag group of delinquent teenagers who have somehow wormed their way into his heart and made their home in his bones.
His friends, no, his family, who he'd take knives and bullets for, move time and space for, go to the ends of the earth for them because his love for them was truly the definition of unconditional.
And gods above, he can't live without them.
And under the cover of darkness, when they are all bandaged up and recovering, tightly squeezed into Draken's bedroom, they'd joyfully share stories about their hopes and dreams for the future, cuddling closer to each other, sharing cans of beer, and laughing when Takemichi coughs as the alcohol burns his throat, he feels like the strongest and luckiest person alive.
C – is for comfort.
✧
Manjiro isn't a comforting person by nature, he doesn't feel like he has enough empathy inside him to feel compassion for others. He leaves such things messy things as emotions or sentiments to the other members of Toman.
Draken deals with it pretty well, he's known 'Mikey' since they were kids and knows the right words to say, the right gestures to make to appease and comfort someone. He knows Mikey is more of a protective force of nature, all fierce action instead of sweet words.
Manjiro just doesn't see himself hugging someone or offering pats on the head, shoulder, or – anywhere really.
However, it slowly changes when he sees Takemichi cry. It's not at all uncommon to see the younger teenager cry, Chifuyu once joked 'Takemitchy has the biggest tear ducts in the history of humanity. A comment he agrees with, and every time Manjiro sees Takemichi bloody and bruises and crying those huge tears of his over his friends, something inside of him twinges.
A small twinge in his chest, somewhere near his heart and he clutches uselessly at it every time. The unfamiliar urge to wrap his arms around the young blonde building, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.
Every time Takemichi gets hurt, the ridiculous need to whisk the younger teen away and wrap him in blankets, pillows, fuck – bubble wrap – never fades. It's absurd, he's never felt like this before and as he watches Takemichi smile through blood cracked lips, he realizes he never wants the feeling to fade.
D is for Denial.
✧
Despite what her dear brother thinks, Emma isn't entirely clueless. She has eyes for goodness' sake, she can see how her idiotic brother looks at his young Captain, and she can see in turn the lingering looks the other gives her brother in return.
Cheeks flushed and fingers fidgeting, she knows, because she does the same around Draken.
They're both oblivious and incredibly dumb, two peas in a pod.
Finally, she asks her brother how he feels about Takemichi, and while he adamantly claims that he doesn't feel anything special for him, nothing but close friendship, the small quiver in his voice gives him away.
E is for Empty.
✧
Takemichi was used to finding things empty, his home, his life, everything around him was empty, void of anything valuable, himself included.
And with nothing in his life, he felt meaningless, and sometimes he thought it was better if he didn't exist in the first place.
A life-changing incident and suddenly he found himself in the past surrounded by people he abandoned, and he swore this time he'd change his future.
No longer would he live such and meaningless and empty life.
F – is for Façade.
✧
Takemichi always knew that his personality was a front. No one could be that naïve and simple-minded all the time, so cheerful and carefree, despite the world they lived in.
No, he wasn't completely unaware of the darkness that hid inside him, although for a long while he had managed to hide his true self from him and everyone else. He was adept at playing the happy-go-lucky leader of the great Toman biker gang, he was so dependable and trustworthy. But often enough, Takemichi saw a lightning-quick glimpse of the man hiding underneath the guise of a boy, and suddenly, he realized that Mikey was playing a part.
The part that in these times of street gangs and delinquency, blood and broken bones, everyone needed something to hold onto. The worry and fear that he effortlessly hid, masked underneath his sunny disposition and smiles.
And Takemichi becomes fascinated with seeing glimpses of the man under the boy, and he constantly watched him out of the corner of his eye, looking for signs of the person hidden within him.
He knows for certain that at some point in the future that façade will collapse, and crumble and Mikey will lose himself to his darkness. And that is something Takemichi will sell his own soul to prevent from happening.
For now, he'll just wait and watch and be the guiding light that Mikey so desperately needs.
G – is for Greed.
✧
Greed is what drives Mikey to him every night, in his bed, up against the wall, in a random room at whatever club the Toman gang took over that night.
He's become quickly addicted to him, his blonde hair taking on the colors of the strobe lights, and his ocean blue eyes filling with tears as he moans, and the noises he makes when Mikey makes him come around his fingers, or his tongue.
It's like a drug, the sex, intoxicating, enthralling and he knows it's bad, but he just can't stop and when he hits it, right there and he screams he knows he wants to be addicted forever.
For addiction is just another form of greed. Wanting and having and taking and sinking deeper into the black hole that he never wants to leave.
They never had a meaningful conversation about it, it's just sex and then he sleeps, sometimes he sleeps so close to him that he can touch him, risking the chance that the fire will rekindle, and they'll do it all over again, the moans and screams and the biting.
Pretending to feel nothing in the morning, clothing being picked up off the floor and handed to each other, him passive and Takemichi blushing furiously. The addiction within him will calm, letting his heart rate steady and he'll forget for a couple of hours pretending to go about normal business, not nothing the accidental touches the possessive hand on his wrist in public and the look of hunger that would appear in his eyes for a split second.
Then night would fall and here he would be again, in his bed running fingers up his silky-smooth skin, his fingertips brushing across his sensitive nipples.
A mix of teeth, tongues, and hands clouding his already desire–crazed mind. This was what he had waited all day for, the moment where they could be lost to each other, surrender to each other.
Takemichi sprawled beneath him panting and shaking, tugging at his pants making the message clear that he wanted them off – NOW! But Mikey already had other ideas this was his time to devour the younger.
He slid down his body to reach his hardened cock, he smelled divine, his sinful tongue tracing his tip before sucking eagerly.
Gasps could be heard from above him, hips thrusting, encouraging him to go deeper. The shivers of excitement going up against his lover's spine, this was the most powerful man in Tokyo – going down on him. This was a man who was able to fuck him as if he actually cared; a man who could make Takemichi's lungs gasp for air, his vocals strain as he screamed for release –!
Mikey couldn't wait anymore, the anticipation of being buried to the hilt inside of him was too much to bear, kissing the young man beneath him roughly, he felt Takemichi shiver at the taste of himself on his lips.
Stripping faster than he thought possible and positioned himself in at his entrance. He grabbed his hips and slid painfully slow into him until he was buried completely to the hilt, then coming out almost fully before he snapped snapped his powerful hips back into him, causing Takemichi to gasp his name over and over.
Dark streaks of pleasure danced across his nerve endings, this wasn't enough he wanted more, wanted to be deeper. He raised Takemichi's legs onto his shoulders, grunting at the new sensation that made colors dance before his eyes.
He was close, feeling the tight coil sensation curl in his abdomen tighten, even more, he bent down to his lovers' ear 'Come for me, Takemitchy' licking her ear and sucking gently on the lobe causing him to give a strangled moan.
He felt his walls tighten around him before he screamed his name, his cum splattering over his belly and chest, and Mikey was so overcome with a feeling deep inside his chest that it threw him over the deep end, his cum flooding Takemichi's insides.
Satisfied and completely spent he caught himself before he fell on top of his lover, he looked down into his deep blue eyes, he watched him raise a hand to push at the blonde hair dangling in front of Mikey's own eyes.
The was his addiction, this was what made him greedy. And he wanted more because every night just wasn't enough.
H – is for Hands.
✧
Takemichi had always thought that you could tell a lot about a person by looking at their hands. Smudged ink stains could mean that a person spent a lot of time writing. Paint lining the side of their hands and clay deep underneath a person's fingernails could indicate that they were an artist.
Rough calluses, tanned hands, and dirty fingernails could mean that a person spent a lot of time outside in the sun doing manual labor, farm work, landscaping, or as Takemichi had unreluctantly become acquainted with – street-fighting.
Everyone had different hands, not one person had the same. Take Mitsuya for example, his deft and dexterous fingers were skillful when sewing and making outfits for the gang.
Pah-chin hands were big and beefy, perfect for hitting and smacking people around; the bigger and fleshier the hands, the bigger the impact of the hit, and the more satisfying the smack that follows.
Chifuyu, on the other hand, had perfect hands. They were soft and pale, with carefully trimmed nails. His small hands that are soft and seemed frail; were in fact steady and strong, ready to take down anyone who dared harm his friends.
Sano Manjiro or Mikey as he was well known as, had the hands of someone who was a hard worker, reliable and dependable. His grip strong and firm – grounding. The warmth of Mikey's hands remained prominent in Takemichi's memory. His hands holding him in their steady grip whenever he would pick him up from the ground when he was too exhausted after another gang fight, Mikey's fingers moving in a soothing manner across his wrist to calm him down.
Takemichi loved interlacing their fingers to observe the contrast of their skin, pale against tan, rubbing the thick calluses on Mikey's palms, the small scars on his fingers from way too many fights.
These hands treated him with such gentleness like he was a fragile thing bordering on breaking apart at the seams – sometimes he wished they would grip him tighter, harder, fingers and nails digging into his skin.
He wanted those perfect hands to mark and bruise his skin.
I – is for Intimacy.
✧
The intimate relationship they both shared was special. Even when they made love, in the end, they would simply hold each other, Mikey's hands calloused from clutching his motorbike's handlebars, stroking Takemichi's naked back and he wrapped his arms tightly around him, letting him know he was safe.
No words were ever needed because in their intimate relationship actions spoke louder than words.
I love you.
I love you too.
J – is for Jealousy.
✧
Takemichi found himself in a situation that he's never really experienced before in his short life. All-round nice guy, Takemichi. Easy going and wholly loveable and always willing to lend a hand, a fist, even his own life to help those who needed him.
Leaning awkwardly on the wall, he was observing the room of people gathered around him. He was in attendance with the other members of Toman, at a house party of someone he didn't really know the name of, when he heard Mikey's familiar chuckle, his eyes immediately drawn to where he was talking to Draken a tall blonde woman hanging off his slight frame. His eyes taking in the sight of the confident blonde-haired man, his breath hitching dangerously in his throat as he watched the way his eyes brightened when Draken laughs at him and offering him a small, wrapped snack from one of his many pockets.
An unfamiliar twinge of jealousy shooting through him when the unnamed woman reaches to pat Mikey on the shoulder, her hand lingering and standing a little too close for Takemichi's liking.
The tips of his fingers itch with the need to slap the stranger's hands away, and he curls them against the plastic red up he's holding, in an attempt to stop them from becoming a fist, the audacity of this woman. Doesn't she know who she's talking to, who's she touching?
Takemichi's stomach doing weird twists when he sees Mikey's face light up with laughter at something Draken says, causing his small nose to scrunch up and his eyes to wrinkle.
He's cute, so damn, cute.
Mikey and the pretty woman are standing close enough that Mikey has to tilt his head back to look at her when she speaks, and even from across the room, Takemichi can see the darkening desire in her eyes as they sweep over his body.
Mikey doesn't usually give affection freely – so this feels strange – different. He wants to say something, call out to his leader, his friend, but he finds himself tongue-tied and a strange ache clogging his throat. He doesn't know why seeing Mikey laughing and smiling with someone, who wasn't him or, Draken or Mitsuya – or anyone from Toman really.
It fills him with discomfort, he doesn't know how to name. A sharp pain shooting through his chest at the sight.
Mikey's head tilts to the side as he catches his eyes from across the room, and before Takemichi can blink, Mikey is at his side, breaking out a playful "Takemitchy~" smiling that big-sweet smile of his.
Mikey doesn't leave his side for the rest of the evening, despite many other Toman members vying for his attention.
K – is for Kinks.
✧
Mikey always found it amusing when people would practically throw themselves at him. Dainty women clad in lacy undergarments, flutter eyelashes, and purring voices.
Men who would sell their very souls, to spend the night with him, to have him bend them over and own them, again and again.
It's not like Mikey thinks in heteronormative terms, and it's not like he's not interested in sex, there's simply no man or woman who intrigues him enough to spend his valuable time with.
That is until he meets one bruised and bloody Takemichi Hanagaki.
He's tiny, and week and such a cry-baby.
And he feels something deep within him stir as weeks turn into months, getting to know the strange boy who has literally appeared from nowhere to change the course of his life. It's like destiny like God himself has sent this blue-eyed boy to him.
And now he's feeling things he's never, ever, felt before. Strange heat simmering low in his belly whenever he sees Takemichi cry, wondering what kind of expression Takemichi would make if he bent over and licked those tears from his cheeks. Would they taste as salty as he expects them to?
He wants to lick the sweat from his chest, wants to dig his teeth into the pale expanse of his throat, and mark him.
But Takemichi was too young, too innocent, and trusted him too completely. How could he take advantage of him? And he knew that the second he allowed himself a touch, a kiss, he would lose himself.
So, he bides his time and waits, soon he thinks, soon he'll be all mine.
L – is for Love.
✧
Mikey doesn't know how to explain the confusing jumble of emotions swirling within him. To explain how his heart catches at the mere sound of his blonde-haired friends' laughter, so loud and boisterous, contagious, and how it warmed him from the inside out whenever he hears it.
How he loves the scowl that would cross Takemichi's face whenever he overhears someone bad-mouth their gang, his devotions to protecting the members of the gang evident from the scars on his body.
He doesn't know how to explain how much he loves Takemichi's delicate limbs and his hands, small and delicate compared to his calloused ones, hands that fit perfectly against his. He loves how Takemichi would place the tip of his tongue between his teeth when he was concentrating particularly hard on something, lost in his own mind.
And he doesn't know how to tell him how much he loves his eyes the most, ocean blue, bright and shining, eyes that he wants to drown in.
He loves him and he doesn't know how to tell him.
M – is for Mesmerizing.
✧
The first time it happened, he's surprised and the shock that tingles through his fingertips causes him to drop the dumpling that he and Mikey had both accidentally reached for.
Takemichi, being his usual self, just smiles and laughs, offering it to the elder without a second thought. The same action he does when Chifuyu requests for half his ramen.
But then it happens again and again and by the fifth time it happens, he's not surprised, well not exactly. Mikey has been feeling it for a while now, those sparks that flare between them any time either of their fingers grazes each other – those sparks that threaten to become something dangerously more and he can't deny it's becoming hard to ignore.
He can feel it in the way Takemichi's gaze burns against his back when he thinks he's not looking; in the way, their hands accidentally brush against each other when he's giving Takemichi driving lessons.
Shaking his head in hopes to dispel thoughts of the younger blonde, Mikey stretches up in his chair, reaching towards the meat buns that Emma has recently placed in the center of the table. Everyone's hands grab for the food, and Takemichi's hands go to the one Mikey is reaching for, and there is another flicker of electricity as their fingers touch. Neither of them letting go, until Takemichi comes to himself and snatches his hand away as though he's been burned.
Mikey laughs again, his laughter bright and airy, and places the steaming bun on Takemichi's plate. Slapping Chifuyu's hand when it inches towards it.
Takemichi mumbles a soft 'thank you' and bends over to busy himself with his food, quietly eating and hoping that the elder doesn't notice that from underneath his lashes, he's still looking at him.
N – is for Nicknames.
✧
Takemichi has had a strange majority of nicknames throughout his life, from the classic Hanagaki to Take-chan when he was in elementary, to his neighbors' little girl once calling him Michi-chi.
It not that he minds, nicknames are a sign of endearment, which makes everything all the more unnerving when Manjiro Sano, the head of an extremely dangerous criminal organization, calls him, "Takemitchy."
And soon before he knows it, everyone is calling him Takemitchy.
If someone outside of their gang dares to imitate Mikey and call Takemichi 'Takemitchy', Mikey is quick to put them in their place. They might be strangers or new friends, perhaps sometimes allies. However, they are not worthy, in Mikey's eyes, of calling Takemichi by his nickname, the name that Mikey has given him.
Even the members of Toman are careful in using it. And the bright little spark in Mikey's eyes when people hesitate for a few seconds before talking to Takemichi is worth the trouble.
Takemitchy
Mikey was the first person in the gang to give him a nickname, and although many people often refer to him as Takemichi, Mikey always calls him Takemitchy, never anything else.
Mikey uses it when talking to others as well. It's a subconscious way of staking his claim but if anyone were to tell Mikey this, there'd be vehement protest that frankly Takemichi isn't capable of dealing with right now.
Then again, Mikey might like the idea. It's hard to tell sometimes.
He knows Mikey likes that he can say it when they're alone, pressed together in the shower or twisted in the sheet on the bed, groan it with abandon knowing that nobody else is going to dare call him that name.
Mikey gave him that name, and Takemichi lets him. And from that moment, a part of his has always belonged to Mikey.
O – is for observation.
✧
Little did Takemichi know that he was the object of his attention, his examination, his ever so careful obsession. And Mikey knew that he couldn't confess to him, knew he couldn't take him – not here, not now – so he bides his time thoughtfully, waiting and watching; always watching.
Patience. So, Mikey began to familiarize with the habits that the young 1st Division Captain displayed – the way his Takemitchy tilted his head slightly when asking a pondering question, the way he would bite his lip with fond exasperation when someone, usually Mikey, invited themselves over for dinner; the way he began to look back at him, with wondering, wistful eyes, and secretive glances.
And it was then that he knew that his observations and the waiting, were over.
P – is for Possession.
✧
The way he did it was subtle, but sometimes Takemichi would catch Mikey gripping his hand slightly too hard or glairing icily at those who longed wistfully for his company.
He considered his actions with feeling or irritable dislike – for even though his intentions were well for him, Takemichi thought it was rather rude to treat him as – as his possession.
The idea rather irked him. But whenever he opened his mouth to complain, Mikey at once traced his lower lip with his tongue lightly and growled roughly, "You're mine," he had no idea what to say at all, blushing a furious red.
Q – is for Quivering.
✧
It happened so suddenly; Takemichi nearly didn't notice it. Mikey at once tensed, and a strange look came across his ordinarily careful visage. He gave a strange sort of cough in the back of his throat and proceeded to push him off.
He looked at his struggling boyfriend in confusion. "What's wrong?" Takemichi asked, alarmed, even more so when he swatted away his inquiring hands in a panic.
"Don't – touch me," he spoke through gritted teeth as if trying to hold back a laugh; his entire face was turning a bit pink from the restraint.
Takemichi blinked, amazement dawning over his features. His fingers raised in a wiggling motion, "Don't tell me – you're ticklish?"
A low grumble was all he received in return before Mikey pounced on him in revenge. Takemichi's squawk could be heard down the hall into Emma's room.
R – is for Respect.
✧
Even though Takemichi always complains and cries his eyes out at the mere thought of facing danger, he always does his best. He always stands up again, bruised, and bloody, facing the threat despite the odds being stacked against him.
And Peh Yan can't help but be frustrated, he doesn't understand why the other continues to fight when he's obviously the weakest of the captains. He, being with Toman for a long time, knows who's strong and who's the weakest that they have to protect.
He knows that the other captains are strong, but the newest, little one – he's weak.
His face is always full of tears and snot running from his nose.
He's a liability to the gang, and that makes them weak, an easy target for their enemies. Despite this though, he always comes out on top in every single scenario, and every time he gets knocked down, he bounces right back up.
He knows it's not easy being in a biker gang, he knows it's brutal and deadly and any day could be your last, and looking at Takemichi now, dressed in the uniform Mitsuya had specially made for him, talking quietly with Mikey, he wonders if the expression on his face is jealousy or respect; he wants it to be respect.
S – is for Scent.
✧
It gets cold at night when he stays over at Draken's, but Takemichi is quite sure it has little to do with the actual temperature. When he's laying by himself in one of the many guest rooms, implanted into a life that's crazy and dangerous, pushed violently out of the life that was safe, meaningless, and boring, into one of fighting rival gangs and trying his utmost to save those he loved. A life where he was trying to survive every day.
He's wrapped in borrowed sheets and a small comforter trying to get to sleep, the same way he had been for the last three hours when he realizes that he's fashioned himself into something of a human sushi roll.
His stomach rumbles and he comes to realize just how hungry he was.
He remembers vaguely that the floorboards creek and his door squeaks as he pushes it open all the way, so he hops and tiptoes towards the kitchen in search of food, trying to be as quiet as he possibly can. As he looks about, a shiver rattles up his spine. He sighs as he thinks of all the warmth and comforts his own bed back home has to offer and he again asks himself why he decided to take Draken's offer to spend the night, instead of walking home in the rain.
After scrounging around for some rice balls leftover from the takeout the gang had ordered earlier – he heads into the common living area of the apartments that Draken shares with ten other women to grab a blanket he remembers seeing on an armchair earlier, but instead, he finds something else there instead.
It's a baggy white shirt with an ink stain on the sleeve. He picks it up and sniffs it – all laundry detergent and soap except a little – something he doesn't quite recognize, but it's familiar at the same time, it smells good. Comforting and homey.
It smells like he'll be able to fall asleep easily wrapped inside of it. So, he pulls it over his head, struggling with the sleeves in the dark.
After he's munched on a rice-ball or two, he creeps back to his borrowed room, making a mental note to ask Draken in the morning who the top belongs to and then apologize to the owner when he finds them.
The next morning, Takemichi wakes up with a smile, nose buried in the fabric of the stained shirt.
"Hey, let's go!" A voice booms from the hallway, his door flinging open to reveal a way too awake and energetic-looking Draken.
"Get up, it's breakfast time, you and Chifuyu are the only two asleep. Damn kids needed their precious beauty sleep." He laughed.
Seriously, why was Draken being so loud?
"Sorry, Draken. I couldn't sleep well. Give me a minute or two." Takemichi said sheepishly, shoving off the covers and standing, rubbing at his eyes.
Silence met his ears and when he looked back at Draken he was looking at his clothing quizzically.
"Oh," he exclaimed. "That's where Mikey's shirt went to. He thought I stole it." Like a great revelation had been revealed before leaving to give the room Chifuyu was sleeping in an enthusiastic kick.
Takemichi looked down at himself with eyes open wide, not given even two seconds to process that the smell that had made him feel so right was actually Mikey before the guy in question was blinking sleepily at him and whining at Draken's loudness. He barely bats an eyelid at Takemichi wearing his shirt, but a small smirk curls at the edges of his mouth. He proceeds to beg Draken to make more French toast.
And if Takemichi walks home wearing Mikey's shirt, if he keeps the shirt for longer than a week, if he wears it every night and luxuriates in Mikey's scent until it's no longer embedded into the fabric, if he balls up the shirt and presses it against his face one last time before shoving it in the laundry basket for his mom to take care of, well, that's between him and the four walls of his room.
T – is for Taste.
✧
"Here, wear this."
Takemichi blinks owlishly at him and nods, gratefully taking the dry articles of clothing. He peels up the hem of his wet shirt and tosses the damp tangle of material to the floor. It's the middle of spring and a storm rages on outside, the rain lashing against the window, and Takemichi is shivering in his school uniform, having come to Mikey's house straight after school, upon Mikey's request, and he honestly doesn't mind Takemichi wearing his clothes.
However, there's an itch in his blood as he watched the flex of Takemichi's broad shoulders and the dip of his lower back, the stretch of his wet skin, and the curve of his subtle muscles. He's still petite compared to the other members of the Toman gang, but he's still growing.
And there's a dryness in Mikey's throat, he doesn't know why.
He's seen Takemichi without a shirt on before, hell they've shared Onsen's together, and the often the odd t-shirt every now and then when Mitsuya has to repair their gang attire when their uniform tends to get ruined and torn quite often. It doesn't make any sense. And Takemichi steps closer, stretching his muscles, standing on his tiptoes, and Mikey instinctively takes a long, slow inhale.
The itch intensifies to vibration, and oh – he doesn't mind. He really doesn't mind.
This is new.
While it stretches about the same across the torso, a shirt that is a perfect fit on Mikey is slightly baggy on Takemichi, he's grown a few inches taller over the past few months, but he's not as filled out as Mikey and the sleeves dangle cutely over his hands, and the shoulder shows a tantalizing glimpse of his bare shoulder.
When Takemichi stretches again, his hands above his head, cat-like, a thick sliver of skin is on a show again and Mikey finds himself licking his lips.
Takemichi wears his cinnamon-sugar sweet scent like a brand and Mikey's fingers curl into his palm, nails digging crescent moons as their scents mingle. Like the sweet apple cobblers his grandpa used to make in the winter, the scent is as heady as it is addictive.
Mikey licks his lips again, remembering the spicy-sweet taste.
Takemichi narrows his eyes, rolling his shoulders back.
"Why are you staring at me like you want to devour me whole?"
"I'm hungry," Mikey replies, trying to sound blasé. "And we both know I'd never eat you whole. I'd have you piece by piece, make it last as long as I could." Mikey says before giving a deliberately wolfish grin, and it makes Takemichi pause.
It's a good distraction and Takemichi mostly looks amused, and something else, something Mikey hasn't seen before.
"You can sit on my bed; I'll be back in a few minutes."
Grabbing their wet clothes, Mikey goes to the bathroom and throws them in the hamper there, deciding to deal with them later and waiting for a few minutes, giving Takemichi privacy to put his borrowed sweats on. Upon returning to his bedroom, he still when he sees Takemichi laying down, absent-mindedly scratching his fingers over his belly, against the borrowed white material Mikey knows is soft and warm.
Mikey swallows, trying not to breathe too deeply, trying not to get smothered by the intermingling of their scents. He gets caught up watching Takemichi's chest rise and fall and completely misses Takemichi calling for his attention.
"Sorry, what?"
He looks into Takemichi's eyes, notes the careful consideration there.
"I asked if your nose is okay, you know, after the Black Dragons."
Takemichi springs into a seated position and swings his legs out in front of him when Mikey sits on the bed across from him. He crosses his arms; all sharp, sturdy wrists and tendons on display. Mikey doesn't have time for the direction his thoughts go in, the instant images of holding and being held, of sliding his hands under his own shirt and burying his nose against the hollow of Takemichi's throat.
He doesn't know how he hasn't noticed these arms before. Or the lips that press together and he just can't stop staring. Or the warmth of those deep blue eyes.
Just how has he not seen this before?
"Yeah, if's fine. Nothing damaged, what about you? Are you still worried about Taiju?"
"No, I'm fine, I've always been a fast healer," he chuffs, "And if he returns to fight Toman, we'll figure something out. We always do."
And there's something about the way Takemichi says 'we' that has Mikey nodding mutely. Together, they can accomplish almost anything.
"Here, I've got somethings to show you," he jumps off his bed, moving to rummage around in his drawers for the reason he asked Takemichi to come over.
-
A few weeks after, the entire gang is out having dinner and the sauce that accidentally spills down Takemichi's front is too reminiscent of blood for Mikey to laugh like everyone else at Takemichi's clumsiness.
This is supposed to be a celebration, another rival gang successfully defeated. Takemichi being the oblivious person that he is, not thinking that anyone would look twice at him, removes his stained shirt and shimmies out of his gang blazer, all while remaining seated at the table, laughing at the wolf-whistles, and hooting he gets from his fellow members.
Mikey breathes, deeply and slowly, ignoring the puzzled look he gets from Draken as he tries in turn not to stare longingly at Takemichi.
The thing is, he can't stop. Takemichi has this kind of loyalty and commitment to him that feels like something other than typical friendship or camaraderie. It's a powerful thing that leaves Mikey breathless and light-headed.
But now there is all this tension between Takemichi and himself. It's something he doesn't understand, and he doesn't know how to fix it if he doesn't understand it.
Sometimes it's like they're living a shadow version of their friendship; it looks roughly the same, it moves roughly the same, but it doesn't have the depth and color as it once did.
They talk, but they don't chat because Mikey can't find the words to say, they lodge in his throat, rotting away like dead vegetation, leaving him with nothing but the stench of his own failure.
It gets to the point where he has to say something, so during a return trip from a meeting together, he says all casual like. "Is there something bothering you?"
Takemichi scowls, glaring holes into the ground as they walk. "I thought you were going to kick Kisaki out of Toman."
Mikey sighs, "We need him."
"Did Taiju hit you too hard?"
And okay, that was a little harsh. He knows he deserves it though, Chifuyu told him what happened on Christmas, how Kisaki betrayed them, but he's still working through it and tying up loose ends before he kicks the bespectacled teen out of the gang forever.
Takemichi huffs out a mirthless laugh, "Yeah, sure."
Mikey's reaction is instantaneous, instincts kicking in, his brain going offline. He rises up, grasping hold of the blonde omega by the scruff of his neck, and swings him around. He pins him to a tree by the side of the road they're walking on, the leaves rustle as both their bodies reverberate with the impact.
His claws extend before he can stop them, digging into Takemichi's skin, right down into his warm blood. His breath is tight in his chest, his own blood roaring through his ears, his teeth bared.
Takemichi looks shocked for a split second before his eyes are filled with anger and hostility that Mikey never expected to be directed at him. Takemichi's lips part in their own snarl and all Mikey can think is, I could lean forward right now and take what I want, I could, I could.
He doesn't.
He pulls away, threading his fingers through his hair, tugging roughly. "I'm sorry."
Takemichi merely looks at him. He straightens himself up and looks again at Mikey through his eyelashes. "I know this doesn't make sense. And I don't know if you'll believe me or not, but I'm trying to help you."
With that Takemichi moves away, without another word, walking the opposite direction towards his own home.
Later that night, Mikey lays back on his bed, his body vibrating with fear and tension as his feeling for his blonde captain are quickly pushing them apart.
-
He doesn't see Takemichi for three days after that and it's torture.
Takemichi doesn't talk to him when he comes to gang meetings – doesn't engage with him at all. Mikey's questioned about it by everyone who knows them, as well as people from other gangs, and by the end of the day he feels wrung out and sore all over.
The one person he'd want to talk about this with is the one person he can't. Mikey suddenly understands why Emma hid her true feeling from Draken and was happy to settle on just being his friend.
They've been through so much though; they can hardly crumble over one-sided attraction. Takemitchy was his hero, his dearest friend. He's seen the gang through countless fights, has helped save countless lives.
So, on one of the days when Mikey knows Takemichi will be walking home alone from school, Mikey follows him, tries to corner him in an alleyway, which is difficult because where Takemichi doesn't have much fighting prowess, he's got mad skills in evasion and Mikey kind of has to make a cage out of his entire body.
Takemichi frowns, rolls his tongue over his lips in a clear sign of nervousness, wondering why the leader of Toman is crowding him against a wall of an empty alleyway.
"Can I talk to you?"
Takemichi stares at him, eyes wide and startled. "Uh – sure. Do you want to talk here, or – ?"
"My place," Mikey cuts in gently grabbing Takemichi wrist and tugging him towards his apartment that is no more than 5 minutes away. When they finally arrive – and Mikey had no idea it would take so long, the few minutes-walk feels like hours – he opens the door and ushers Takemichi inside to his bedroom before the younger he has the chance to run away.
Walking over to his bed and dropping down on it, his dark eyes watch Takemichi as he shuffles his feet nervously.
Where does he begin? How does he begin?
Does he just come out and say that he's been in love with this kid since they first met all those years ago? Surrounded by members of a stupid fight club.
"I kept thinking that if I didn't talk about it, or focus on it, it would go away." Mikey starts, falteringly, eyes on the floor.
He hears a sigh, "You want it to go away?"
"Yes? No? I don't know. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and you have a girlfriend, she's sweet. Despite everything though, they make sense to me."
"They?" Takemichi asks and Mikey looks up to see that he's tilted his head to the side in confusion.
"My feelings," Mikey confirms. "For you. But the situation sucks, I know, and even though you mean so much to me, I don't want to lose you as a friend, and Toman needs you."
"Why didn't you say anything before?" Takemichi asks, voice low in the kind of the way it always gets when he's struggling with the depths of his emotions.
"Because" he whispers, "I didn't know how to, and I was scared."
"That isn't bad," Takemichi hums. "Liking someone isn't bad, Mikey."
Mikey swallows thickly, "Yeah. I know. You know, in time, I'll get over it. You won't be stuck with me, like, molesting you with my eyes forever."
He laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He's so far out of his depth, he's drowning.
"I don't want you to get over it, I wanted you to acknowledge it. I – geez, come here!"
Takemichi steps away from where he's been leaning against the door and strides towards him, at the same time Mikey follows his direction. Mikey thinks Takemichi is pulling him in for a hug and he folds into his arms willingly. And Takemichi is hugging him, but then he's also pulling back until they're stranding chest-to-chest, faces inches apart.
Takemichi's pressing a finger under his chin and tilting his head up, capturing his lips in a kiss.
Mikey doesn't kiss back immediately, shocked still, but Takemichi is patient and coaxes him to open up, take some of the control. Takemichi tastes of cinnamon and apples – heady and sweet, and rich. Nothing like the sharp musk he smells like.
The kiss quickly turns fierce, needy; tongues tangling, teeth clashing, both so hungry for the other they don't pull away until their lungs are burning, screaming for air.
Mikey goes back for more, licking over Takemichi's bottom lip several times, sucking lightly, lingering over how good it feels He savors holding and being held, feeling their hearts start to drum in sync. He doesn't want to let go when Takemichi begins shifting back, but he does, rocking back onto his heels to stop himself from collapsing forward.
"Hinata and I broke up a couple of weeks ago," Takemichi's admitted shyly, breathlessly.
"Takemitchy," Mikey says, trying to inject everything into that one word.
All the love, all the annoyance, all the surprise. It frustrates the hell out of him that Takemichi could get angry with him omitting information when he's been doing the exact same thing, but double standards are Takemichi's forte, and he's always surprising him.
"Mikey," Takemichi replies, with a sardonic lilt to his tone that no one else would dare. He surges forward, nuzzles at his cheeks, kissing him again. He doesn't leave much space between them when he starts to speak. "I want to be the one to save you. Just like you save me, countless times over. So, please don't pull away from me again, or I'll swear I'll –"Takemichi lets out a shaky exhale, "act like the biggest idiot in the world."
Takemichi frames his face, thumbs rubbing in circles over his jaw.
Mikey pushes into it, a low sound of contentment rumbling through his chest. This is right, this is the way things are supposed to be.
U – is for Umbrella.
✧
Rain peppered the slick surface of their single umbrella and dripped off the edges, collecting in puddles at their feet. What was once a sunny, pleasant day has changed into a downpour of thick, white rain. The rattle of far-off thunder sounded in the distance, making Takemichi shiver with premonition.
The cold seemed to slither its way inside his jacket, and he watched the rainfall, listening to it patter against the umbrella as Mikey spoke softly to the resting place of his brother. He pressed himself closer to Mikey, offering silent comfort as Mikey talked about his week, about Emma's grades and their grandpa's health.
He whispered his brother's name once more quietly, a soft, shakily exhale escaping him when Takemichi raised a hand to rest upon his head, murmuring inaudible comforts into the blonde's ear.
And the rain kept coming down.
V – is for Vocal.
✧
No matter what situation Takemichi was in, he was always vocal. In the bed was no exception. To begin with, Mikey had found it somewhat disconcerting, being a naturally reticent person himself.
But soon enough, he'd grown accustomed to the sounds his younger boyfriend would make during their time together – in fact, he came to enjoy hearing them, in time he came to love hearing them.
There were the small, delicate sounds – the sighs, the murmurs, the breathy little pants that whispered out from those delectably pink lips. Then came the gasps, the whimpers, the keening cries that told Mikey just how close his lover was to completion. There were also the sounds that resulted from Mikey deliberately holding him back from completion, the wails, the groans, and the whines – the purest forms of begging.
And oh, how Mikey loved to hear Takemichi beg.
But what Mikey loved the most of all – what he really, really lost himself in finding – were the moans. Those guttural, deep-throated moans that Takemichi would make when Mikey was manipulating his body like a prize instrument.
Those were the most beautiful sounds that Mikey had ever known. They were the ones that truly reminded Mikey just who he was with, just who he was fucking, and just who Takemichi belonged to.
He was making them now, the blonde's head half-buried in the pillow in front of him, his hands fisted beside his head because he'd insisted on touching himself even though Mikey had instructed him not to. His rear end was high in the air while his knees rested on the bed, legs spread wide and wanton.
Mikey was holding a glowing ass cheek in each hand, pulling them apart so that he had uninhibited access to the ring of muscle that trembled and quivered with every brush of his tongue.
Another moan escapes, Takemichi's hips rolling as he tries to push his ass backward in an effort to relieve some of the pressure building inside of him.
Mikey's strong hands hold him effortlessly in place, not even allowing him an inch to move.
"Mikeeey," Takemichi whines as Mikey's tongue continues licking its way around, occasionally flattening itself and gliding a continuous path from Takemichi's balls to his tailbone. That particular action always makes Takemichi shudder.
Another moan comes, this one louder than the last and Mikey feels more blood surging down to fill his already hardened shaft. He laps at the puckered flesh again, pressing the rigid tip of his tongue in just the slightest bit, and then drawing it back out.
"Mikey, please," Takemichi begs as he squirms again. Finally, Mikey pulls himself away from his feasting, kissing his way up Takemichi's sweat-slicked spine until his lips are next to Takemichi's sensitive ear.
He's been rather insatiable tonight, it's the peak of Takemichi's heat, but he's already taken Takemichi three times already and then torturing him like this for approximately 20 minutes, time blurring, losing himself in the sweet sounds of Takemichi's pleasure.
The advantage of alpha stamina. There was an innate, almost primal need in Mikey to claim him in every way possible. To take and satiate Takemichi in a way that left him too consumed to look at anyone else, lest Mikey loses him because he couldn't.
He couldn't lose his Takemitchy.
He nuzzles his nose against his lover, his mate, pushing away the depressing thoughts of losing Takemichi when the young man was right here underneath him, writhing so beautifully.
"Tell me what you want, Takemitchy," Mikey murmurs directly into Takemichi's ear, before flickering his tongue over the shell. (He'd learned a long, long time ago how much Takemichi got turned on when Mikey playfully bit his ear or kissed the small, delicate shell.)
Sure enough, Takemichi lets out another moan in response, and Mikey experiences a further surge of lust sweep over him.
Oh, if only he could record that sound. He'd listen to it over and over again – although Mikey is the first to admit, that it's much better hearing it first-hand.
Unconsciously, he begins to rub his burgeoning cock against Takemichi's upper thigh; and acts which only serve to get Takemichi more impatient.
"Mikey, please," he begs again, "I want you."
All this time, the fingers of Mikey's hand had been lightly tracing their way around the puckered flesh that was now practically dripping with slickness. His other hand was holding himself propped up, hunched over Takemichi like some fiercely protective blanket.
He brought his middle finger to a stop, the flesh beneath quivers in anticipation. Mikey never gets tired of seeing Takemichi's reactions to stimuli. He finds them all endlessly fascinating.
Slowly, he begins to press his middle finger inside.
"Oh, about time," Takemichi manages to utter in something that sounds like a cross between a pout and an exhalation of relief.
It takes hardly any pressure of Mikey's finger to slip inside the searing heat of Takemichi's body, practically with the amount of slick pouring out of Takemichi and the way he's pushing back against the intrusion, taking it in as if it were all he could ever want.
But what Mikey wants – is more of those moans, so he adds another finger. He gets something close, something like a grunt that becomes choked at the end. He scissors his fingers for a moment or two before adding a third. He knows that, this far along, Takemichi needs to feel full. At the stretch, Takemichi moans again.
"Mikey – Gods, I love you." He breathes as Mikey's fingers thrust their way in and out of him.
Mikey leans his head down that bit further to lay a soft kiss upon Takemichi's temple, the act perhaps seeming out of place within such a display of dominance, but this is them; this is who they are.
"You are my love as well," Mikey replies sincerely.
Takemichi's mouth opens with a silent cry, both in response to Mikey's words and the way Mikey increases the pace of the fingers inside him, ensuring the addition of a fourth finger.
Takemichi's head thrashes from side to side but Mikey makes sure he doesn't brush against Takemichi's prostate. He wants to drag the moment out just a little longer because Takemichi looks so breath-taking like this.
And for now, he's all Mikey's.
Finally, Takemichi can't take it anymore and pants out, "Mikey – please Mikey."
Mikey breathes against the damp blonde locks, "Please what, my love?"
"Please," Takemichi moans the word again, "Please – I want you inside me."
Mikey licks the side of Takemichi's face, tasting salt and musk, tasting Takemichi's want, his desire, "I am inside you, my love." He teases with a sly smile.
Takemichi growls, his cute little omega teeth flashing up at him, his ass clinging to Mikey's fingers. "You know what I mean," he exclaims angrily. He wants to smirk and continue to tease Takemichi until dawn approaches. Instead, all he does is take one last deep breath and then move back to his previous position. He draws his fingers out and wastes no time in using them to hold Takemichi's cheeks apart once more.
Mikey himself is now as hard as he can be. He takes just one moment to look at the sight before him and then he slams inside.
Takemichi's back arches into a perfect curve and he gives the deepest moan yet – one filled with relief, gratitude, but most of all a profound yearning for Mikey.
Mikey knows neither of them is going to last long.
He pulls out before thrusting back in with such force that it rocks not only Takemichi's body but the bed they're on as well.
He knows he's hit the right spot when Takemichi cries out and Mikey sets out a pace that is punishingly rewarding for both of them and each time he hears Takemichi vocalizing his clear appreciation, he feels his own response increase.
When they come, it's to the sound of two moans joining together in harmony. The fingers of Mikey's hands, having moved to Takemichi's hips, clutch tighter, digging into the soft, exquisite flesh beneath as he releases his seed deep inside, flooding the quivering passage of his one and only love.
His partner, his hero, his mate.
After the rapturous moment has passed, they both collapse forward onto the bed. Mikey remains inside Takemichi as he wraps his arms around his waist from behind, holding him tightly. Not a moment later and his eyes are drifting shut. At seeing how tired Takemichi is, the guilt pricks at Mikey again.
Sometimes he did get rather carried away during Takemichi's hears and with Takemichi propensity for exaggeration regarding his stamina, Mikey often neglects the fact that Takemichi was, after all, an omega and as such, more delicate than him.
From his position, Mikey brushes his hair off his lover's forehead and kisses his temple. "You're so good Takemitchy, so very good to me." Takemichi chuffs a laugh at him and then a few moments later, the sound of snores resonates around the room.
Mikey lays a tender kiss to Takemichi's shoulder blades, allowing his dear omega rest before his heat peaked again. Following his mate into slumber.
W – is for Wondering.
✧
Sometimes Mikey finds it hard to breathe for long minutes at a time, things becoming too much for him to deal with and his heart beating so fast it's bruising his ribs.
With his family almost completely gone, he clings to Emma, Draken, and Mitsuya. The hope that one-day Pah-Chin would be released and returned to them, was sometimes the only thing striving him forward and tethering him to reality.
He's no stranger to the dull, empty ache that comes with losing someone, not being strong enough to save those who desperately needed his help, and watching another person die. He feels like he's struggling to keep his head above water, tight panicked sensation in his chest, and it's hard to breathe.
So – so hard.
He's sure he's drowning on dry land.
It's all too much.
And he's wondering why he continues to try. To keep going through life, when everything was just so painful.
In times like these, he's surprised that comfort comes in the form of his blonde-haired companion. The one who is usually crying and trying his hardest to avoid conflicts.
His loud assurances echo around the shrine they hold their meetings.
X is for Xenial.
✧
Takemichi came across as a very xenial person whenever he had guests, he's always there to offer someone his help, a drink, or food to eat.
Nothing seems to faze the young man when there were several dozen gang members crowding his house and garden. Simply content to bask in their company.
Y – is for Yams.
✧
Takemichi didn't object when Chifuyu knocked on his door at 8 p.m, asking if he was free and if he wanted to go on a ride with him.
The newest festival was in full swing, but from the events of the last festival Takemichi went to, he was eager to stay indoors and eat junk food until he passed out. But Chifuyu's persisted and that was where he found himself in front of a snack vendor watching as Chifuyu handed over some money.
Takemichi squinted at the smudged handwriting on the stall, Yams.
What the heck is a Yam?!
He was pleasantly surprised at the taste, it was better than what he was expecting, and it warmed his hands as he held the steaming package, Chifuyu, had thrown at him in his haste. The snow had started falling softly, slightly, in flakes that clung to their jackets.
Offhandedly, Takemichi suggested, "We should do this more often, you know." And was rewarded with a delighted smile that light up his vice captains' eyes.
Z – is for Zealous.
✧
Takemichi's passion for life was contagious. His excitement and honest goodness were endless amusement for the Toman gang. He was like a kid in a candy shop most-time. Big smiles and sparkly eyes.
He wanted to do everything, try everything, go places he'd never been to, and the others simply couldn't help but be carried away with Takemichi's zeal.
"Let's go to the beach," Chifuyu exclaimed excitedly, once again caught up in whatever plan he and Takemichi were whispering about. Heads bent together, Takemichi shushed him, looking around frantically, hoping no one was paying attention to them.
They were. Almost everyone was.
Rolling his eyes, Draken strolled over to see what they were up to. Smiling slightly as the two troublemakers let out an 'eep' when they saw him.
"What are you two whispering about?!"
"Noothing." Chifuyu drawled, looking everywhere but up at the second-in-command.
Mikey hadn't arrived yet, so Takemichi let out a sigh of relief, before lowering his voice and gesturing Draken to bend down to hear him.
"We're planning a party for Mikey-Kun's birthday, wanna join in?"
And honest to God, how was this kid in a biker gang when he was just too damn pure. His big blue eyes sparkled like someone from a Disney movie when Draken nodded.
Laughing when Takemichi made a shushing motion when Mikey appeared ready to call the meeting.
Yeah, Takemichi definitely had a zeal for life, which he was happy to share with everyone he loved.
-fin-